


Gloves

by kali_with_a_c



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood, Dermatillomania, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Self-Harm, Short & Sweet, as usual, bh is actually nice what, demencia screws things up, derma needs more recognition, enjoy, not that sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 17:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13722198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kali_with_a_c/pseuds/kali_with_a_c
Summary: Why do you think Flug constantly wears his labcoat and bag?





	Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> derm/a: def. (noun)- skin
> 
> tillo: def. (verb)- to pick, to pull off
> 
> mania: def. (noun)- with madness, excessive desire, obsession

The day was bound to be a mess. First, Flug passed out from severe sleep exhaustion at four am and then slept until twelve, only to be awoken by a absolutely livid Black Hat. 

In the hours between then and now, the doctor had been a hyperactive mess. He ran around constructing invention after invention, blueprint after blueprint. Though, he doubted it was the extra sleep that gave him the power rush. He knew it was fear. The scientist had slept for eight hours. Eight whole hours that could’ve been spent working. His boss had every right to be angry. Flug was even mad at himself— at his body, for betraying him like that.

Regardless, the doctor sighed and continued with his next invention. This one was a dissolving acid that could be used in anything; bullets, water, injection, it was multi-purposeful. The only downside was that it took time to make. Flug knew it would be a godsend if he finished in the next half hour, which was the maximum time limit he’d given himself. 

Alas, after only twenty minutes of toiling, an unneeded distraction flew herself into the lab, 

“Heya Flug!” 

There was a pause followed by an audible exhale from the scientist, “Not now, Demencia. P-please. I really gotta get—get this done.”

The hybrid paid no mind to Flug’s plea and instead touched everything that caught her eye. She danced from object to object, thankfully not breaking anything but definitely not placing items back where they belong. 

“There’s nothing fun in here,” Demencia complained, “it’s booooooring, just like you!”

“Yeah. You’re right, so you s-should leave.” 

The doctor didn’t look up from the mixture when he spoke. If his calculations were correct, he was done and with ten minutes to spare. Substituting hydrofluoric acid with sulfuric was definitely a better choice. _Thank you, John Haigh._ Now he just needed to test it. 

“What’s that?” 

Demencia eyed the liquid in his hand with interest and Flug was quick to fasten a cork on it, knowing how destructive she could be. 

“N-nothing! It’s nothing, really.” he stood and backed away, yet Demencia creeped ever closer. “Listen. You don’t want t-to touch it, you'll die.”

The doctor held it above his head with one hand and pushed the lizard-girl away with the other, praying he wouldn’t drop the vile. She smiled something wicked and jumped. Flug prepared for the sound of glass shattering— along with his dreams, and maybe a scream from Demencia but nothing came. He looked at the hybrid. 

She was standing with the unharmed solution in hand, turning it upside down and shaking the tube. Flug inwardly sighed and went back to battle. He tried to be straightforward and grab the glass as Demencia was examining it, but she moved out of reach. They clashed with each other and eventually fought like children on the floor. Flug was much too tired for this. The hybrid, however, was enjoying the entertainment. She wanted whatever fun she could get. 

“Give it back!” The scientist yelled.

Demencia stuck her tongue out, “Never!”

Sometime during their clash, one of her shoes had been kicked off and both of Flug’s gloves were knocked on the ground beside him. Demencia had the solution in her right hand, waving it in a mocking manner and the doctor finally snapped. He reached for her wrist in a faltering burst of energy and managed to secure her arm. However, she dropped the vile and this time, didn’t catch it. Both went silent as the sound of glass shattering filled the room. Broken shards bounced then settled, and the acidic solution ate at whatever it touched with an awful hiss. Thankfully, it wasn’t them. 

Flug searched for the location of the spill; it would need to be contained before the liquid dissolved the floor. However, his eyes widened as he realized what the solution spilled on.

“No! No—no, no, no, no!” Flug scrambled for the counter-solution in a feeble attempt to stop the destruction but it was too late, his gloves were gone; nothing but torn pieces of yellow rubber remained. 

“S-shit Demencia! Look what you did!” 

The hybrid waltzed around him, fixing her hair and grabbing the lost shoe, “Mm, sucks.” 

“What the h-hell do you mean, ‘sucks’!? Now I’m going to have to start over and—and…I don’t have any gloves.” Flug whispered the last part. A feeling of dread and uncertainty lingered in his mind. 

“Sorry. What do you want me to say?” Demencia turned to leave, “You can get yourself another pair of gloves, Flug. It’s not the end of the world.”

###### 

The doctor sat in silence. It’d hardly been an hour but he’d managed to clean the floor and produce another solution. He was confident. Maybe, maybe he could make it through this. 

Of course, his gloves were good for safety reasons and generally needed in a lab setting, but that wasn’t the only reason he wore them. Flug had a nasty habit. A habit that devoured hours of his time and inches of his skin. A habit that left his arms covered in little round scars. A habit that he hated. 

Dermatillomania, or more casually—‘derma’, was its name. Classified as a body-focused repetitive disorder, the closest thing he could relate it to was OCD. Flug couldn’t remember when he started, but he knew it’d been going on for a long, long time.

He was already self-conscious and derma didn’t help, so the doctor draped himself in clothing, hiding whatever skin he could find. It helped to hide the urge as well as the evidence. His gloves though, they were like the handcuffs he was grateful for. Without them, it was only a matter of time. 

Flug breathed. It wouldn't happen again, he could do this. A new pair of gloves was set to arrive by morning. He could wait that long, he just had to keep himself distracted. 

Another turn of a screw, another solved math equation. Everything was going well. Until...until one of his hands found its way up his arm. Like a snake, it inched over the skin waiting to strike. Such smooth skin, soft skin. The feeling was strange to Flug. His arms weren’t covered in scabs or freshly picked wounds. For once, they were normal. And he was about to ruin it.

Once it starts, there's no stopping. Derma consumes the mind and dulls the senses. Flug didn’t feel pain as his fingers dug deeper, itching and scratching. He only felt relief. Bittersweet relief as blood pooled on his skin, like a sigh he’d been holding back. The scientist didn’t think about his current project. He didn’t think about tomorrow or yesterday. He didn’t think at all, his hands did that for him. 

Time seemed to pass like a dream. Everything was hazy and the only thing he felt was the need for more. More skin, more blood. The scientist didn’t know if it had been five minutes or five hours when the door opened. But it did, and there stood his boss. Flug blinked at the distraction, quickly registering his surroundings. The doctor pulled his blood-stained hands out of the sleeves of his lab coat and prepared for the worst. 

He knew what was going to happen next. Black Hat would ask him what the hell he was doing, and why he was doing it. Then, he would yell and tell Flug about how much of a degenerate he was for wasting so much time. Derma was never easy to explain. A lot of people didn’t care, they didn’t want to care. It wasn’t something that could be romanticized and given to the main character in a teen-fiction novel to make her more, ‘diverse’ and, ’relatable’. It wasn’t like his stutter, which had been deemed as cute and shy. It wasn’t like his anxiety which people liked to call a ‘quirky personality trait’. Derma was what it was: a goddamn nightmare. 

In the seconds that followed, there was an overwhelming silence. It was enough to make a deaf person uncomfortable.

“Doctor,” Black Hat eyed the scientist, whose blood was seeping into the white sleeves of his lab coat, “what...what have you done to yourself?”

“S-sorry, sir,” was Flug’s automatic reply, “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to.”

The eldritch hated to admit it, but he was actually concerned for Flug. He had no idea what happened and didn't know if the scientist had done this to himself or if he was on some sort of caffeine with a dangerous side effect. Maybe Flug needed the extra sleep more than he recognized. In a burst of sympathy, Black Hat materialized a wet washcloth and handed it to the other. 

“Take the day off tomorrow,” he said, heading for the door “I don’t need you bleeding out before morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> i should be working on my other fic but i relapsed and got this idea
> 
> thought it'd be an interesting headcanon


End file.
